


Misunderstandings (WIP!)

by Ponddipper



Series: When the Wind Blows [2]
Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 13:09:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7759027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ponddipper/pseuds/Ponddipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following on from Revelations.<br/>STILL A WORK IN PROGRESS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dancin' in the moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the next part of the story that follows on from Revelations. It is still very much a work in progress but I am struggling to write it at the moment. So I decided that I needed to post the first chapter (it has been rewritten about 100 times!). This way I am committing myself to finishing this monster.  
> As ever comments, corrections and suggestions all very much gratefully received.  
> P.S I have rated this M from the off. Bus passengers beware!
> 
> **UPDATE**  
> This is taking me much longer to finish than I thought. Lots going on at home, and thankfully lots of work too is making it hard to find time to sit and write (as well as finding headspace to be creative!) But rest assured I will finish this beast and will post it once I can.

** Chapter 1 – Dancin’ in the moonlight **

They spun around and around as Richard guided her in a waltz across the sand, away from the hubbub of town.  The beach was deserted now that the warm evening had given way to the cooler night.  A midnight blue sky hung overhead, punctuated by a thousand stars twinkling like diamonds in the soft moonlight.

As the bustling sounds of Honoré drifted ever distantly away, carried out to sea on a soft scented breeze, their pace slowed.  Richard slipped his hands from their formal hold and placed them gently on her bare shoulders.  He felt her tremble slightly, but she didn’t shrug him off which he took as her acceptance of his nearness.  Lightly he grazed his fingers over her upper arms, descending behind her ribcage, coming to a rest on her slim hips.  Her soft moan encouraged him in his movements and he encircled her waist with his arms as their slow waltz devolved into a soft shuffling sway.  A contented sigh escaped his lips as she reached up to entwine her hands behind his neck, fingertips brushing against the hair at his nape.   He heard her appreciative murmur as he drew her in closer, pulling her in to lie fully against his taut body.  A delicious warmth spread throughout him, making his nerve endings tingle with excitement at her proximity. 

His heart bounded in his chest, its beat thumping in his ears as his hands slipped lower, fingertips encountering the soft muscle at the bottom of her back.  She wiggled her pert behind, pushing it into his touch.  Each roll of his pelvis triggered a moan and responding movement in her, and he delighted in each and every one.

A small voice in the back of his head reminded him of the last time he had danced with a woman, oh so briefly at Solly’s wake.  Back then he had been too shy, too nervous to make a move, but now?  Now he had found his courage and he was determined not to miss his chance.  The signals she sent him could not be misread – even by him.  She had initiated this.  It was she who had kissed him, made the first move.  He was merely accepting the invitation she extended.

Another moan brought his focus back to her, and Richard traced the edges of the low cut back of her red dress with one hand, his fingertip brushing against the ridges of her spine.  She let loose a soft whimper as he felt the Goosebumps rise under his teasing touch.  Had she worn this dress just for him?  The thought made him go weak at the knees while tension rose in other parts of him.  Flattening his palms to her smooth muscles he hugged her tightly to him, rolling his hips hard into her as another moan sent shivers down his spine, and jolts of electricity up his legs.  He put his chin possessively atop her head, breathing deeply, to drag air into his lungs, savouring every second of her closeness. 

Growing bolder with each passing moment and her reactions to him, Richard slipped his hands under the thin material of her dress.  He felt the blood rush through him as his hands crept lower, cupping the flawless curve of her rear which, he discovered, was unencumbered by garments of any kind.  She was driving him wild.  If he didn’t stop, he knew it might end badly.

 _But what a way to go,_ he thought as he released an enraptured sigh.  His body ached all over; his face sore from the grin he was sure contorted his usually scowling features.  She did that to him, turned him upside down, but he didn’t care.  He wasn’t sure how it had happened but Camille was wrapped in his arms and the world was just the two of them dancing (well, almost) on the beach under the stars.

Camille lay her hand upon his chest as he wrapped his arm about her shoulders. Pressing his forehead to hers, a burning fire shot across his skull like lightning and he shut his eyes for a moment until it passed.

A faint coconut scented breeze teased his nostrils, as he felt her tender touch on his pyjama clad arm.  Their eyes met, drawn together by some unknown force, faces moving closer without conscious thought.  He felt himself pulled into the deep chocolate pools of her sensuous eyes, felt the puff of air on his cheek as she softly called his name..

‘ _Richard?’_

_Mere millimetres separated their faces.  The moment he had desired for so long almost upon him as he drew in breath ready to sink onto her full red lips…._

_‘Inspector?  Can you hear me?’_

He froze.  The voice was rough, too harsh for Camille’s seductive tone.  His arm was being roughly shaken and he snapped open his eyes….

To stare straight into a pair of grey irises.  Richard physically jumped with the shocking change in scene about him and the resulting surge of white hot pain in his leg set forth an uncensored curse.

Panting, with pain, disorientation and fading desire, his eyes danced about him, darting from the bright overhead lights to the garish curtain ‘walls’ and the various monitors silently standing guard about the bed he was laying on, while chaotic disembodied voices assailed his ears and the sharp tang of antiseptic invaded his nostrils.

 _Not on the beach then,_ he thought wryly as he tried to slow his hammering heart. 

‘ _Good dream?’_ Said a blonde woman, as she perused a manila file of papers at the side of his bed. ‘ _You were grinning like the Cheshire cat!’_

Richard glowered at her, confusion and embarrassment warring within him.  His brain scrambled to recall what had happened to land him here, and where exactly ‘here’ was, as well as being deeply embarrassed at being caught ‘mid-dream’.  When she got no response the Woman looked up at him, eyebrows knitted in a frown,

                        ‘ _You do know where you are, right?’_

Shaking himself mentally, Richard swallowed and eyed the female stood in front of him.  She was around 5 feet 4 tall, of medium build and, he guessed, aged about 30.  She had a stethoscope draped around her neck, and wore the typical baggy pale blue top and trousers that trademarked her profession.

                        ‘ _Hospital?’_ Richard suggested sarcastically.

Ignoring the man’s grumpy scowl, she introduced herself.

‘ _I’m Dr Gilbert.’_ She shook his hand.  ‘ _Sorry you’ve had such a wait.  Things can get a bit hectic round here.  So what have you been up to then, eh?’_ Her broad Yorkshire tones warm and friendly.

 

Over the next ten minutes, the Dr undertook a very thorough examination of her patient.  Having asked a raft of seemingly endless questions, including enquiries about his background, medical history, and current relationship status (which left him blushing deeply), she moved on to a physical exam.  Richard wondered if it had been completely necessary to lean in so close to stare into his eyes that her ample bosom pressed awkwardly into his chest causing his breathing to become shallow and rapid  and did she need to gaze at him so deeply for quite so long to check his pupil reactions? 

He also wondered if she had really needed to divest him of his shirt to listen to his breathing and feel his ribs and torso for injuries.  Her hands were warm but her touch had a rash of goosebumps surging across his flesh in reply.  He _was_ certain, however, that he could have undressed and dressed himself without her assistance.  His head hurt but it wasn’t _that_ bad, yet the Doctor had been most insistent that he move as little as possible until she had ruled out possible spinal injuries.  She hadn’t been so concerned earlier when she had jolted him awake, but now she was adamant that she check each part of him thoroughly.

                        ‘ _You just lie back and relax, Richard.’_ She purred.  ‘ _I promise not to hurt you.’_ The twinkle in her eyes, and the way she bit the edge of her bottom lip made him feel very uncomfortable indeed.

Thankfully, Richard was able to ‘control’ himself when she examined his lower half.   He was glad she didn’t try to remove his trousers, but her hands ran over pretty much every inch of his hips and legs.   By mentally calculating the true value of Pi*, he was able to endure her explorations without severe embarrassment to either party.

 _‘Well the good news is that your neck and spine feel fine to me, though  it looks like you may have broken your ankle there, Richard.’_ She said, pointing with her pen at the swollen and misshapen area on his right leg.

            ‘ _I’ll get someone to take you down for some x-rays and I want to check out that lump on your head.  You might have a touch of concussion from your fall.   You’re going to need a few stitches on the cut above your eye.’_

 _‘Don’t worry.’_ She said reassuring him. _‘I’ll do my very best embroidery and try not to leave a scar.  Don’t want to spoil that handsome face of yours, do we?’_ She winked at him, placing her hand lightly on his cheek.

Richard felt himself flush with embarrassment at her mocking of his plain appearance.

After scribbling a few notes in his file, Dr Gilbert hooked it to the end of the bed and smiled shyly at her patient.

 _Is there anyone you’d like us to call?  Wife? Girlfriend? Partner?’_ She tipped her head to one side and batted her eyelashes at him, almost managing to hold in her schoolgirl like giggle as he gulped visibly.

‘ _No, thank you.’_ Said Richard horsely, clearly embarrassed by her attention.  He just wanted to get out of here.  He really didn’t like hospitals.

‘ _Well, I’ll pop back and see you later then.’_ Replied the Doctor, patting his thigh and giving it a little squeeze.

Turning to leave, she smiled at him over her shoulder,

‘ _Don’t go anywhere now_.’ She said and with a pronounced hip wiggle disappeared behind the curtains, leaving Richard alone to brood on his situation.

The pillow behind him gave a protesting ‘pfft!’ as he threw his head back into it.  A wave of swimming dizziness and painful nausea warned him that this was not a good course of action to repeat and he shut his eyes to force the feeling down.

Checking his watch, Richard muttered a curse.  He’d missed his flight and broken his word to the team.  He should be back on Saint-Marie by now.  A vision of a furious Camille came to mind and he pushed the ensuing shame and disappointment he felt away, deep into the increasingly overcrowded part of his subconscious where his emotions were buried and his conscious mind did not dare to linger.

Damn!  He should have gotten someone to tell the Commissioner of his delay.  What was wrong with him?  Why didn’t he think of it earlier?  A persistent throbbing in his head was getting more annoying and he knew it was destined to become a headache of fairly epic proportions.  He remembered being pumped full of something when he arrived, but it was obviously wearing off now.  All he wanted to do was go home and sleep in his own bed with the sound of the waves to soothe him.  He shut his eyes to block out the painful glare of the fluorescent lights above as he heard the curtains scrape back on their metal rail, like fingernails on a blackboard.

Reluctantly opening his eyes again he saw a broad shouldered man of Caribbean origin appear through the gap in the curtains.  Smartly dressed in a white polo shirt, tucked into pressed black trousers (with perfectly straight creases down the front of each leg) the man introduced himself:  

‘ _Good evening Sir!’_ He said with a bright cheerful smile.  ‘ _My name is Edwin and I’ll be your taxi driver this evening_.’

 _‘If only’,_ muttered Richard trying to keep the frustration he felt at bay as Edwin unclamped the wheel brakes on the trolley and began to manoeuvre it and Richard out into the corridor.  It was not Edwin’s fault he was stuck in Accident and Emergency when he should be back on Saint-Marie with his team.  No, that was another man’s fault entirely….


	2. Chapter 2 - Setbacks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here it is at last, Chapter 2. Sorry it's over a year since the last one!  
> I have been hiding out in the World of Wooster for some time and only just got back to this one, so apologies if it's not as good as hoped. It hasn't been beta'd yet either so let me know if you spot any errors, or it's just awful. I have about 6 chapters almost ready and the basic plan is set. But at last count there are 24 stories on my to be written list so it might take me a while...  
> Enjoy!

Chapter 2

When Detective Inspector Poole did not arrive at Honoré Airport as scheduled, nor on the later flight that afternoon, Commissioner Patterson became concerned.  He knew it had been a risk to let DI Poole go ‘home’ but the Governor himself approved the SOCA request for Poole to accompany Ms Woodward, and said he felt confident that the Inspector had settled well enough now that he would return to the team he had nurtured.  Indeed, having observed the man’s interactions with a certain member of that team, Patterson was fairly confident that Poole would return.  So his current unknown whereabouts were distinctly mystifying.  The Inspector was not the sort of person to just not bother to contact his superior if plans had changed.  Not like, Charlie Hulme……

    Perhaps they had underestimated the man’s desire to return to the UK, although Patterson had been there and didn’t think the two places compared well.  The UK was cold, wet and grey while the food was stodgy and bland.  Still, there was no accounting for taste. 

    Making his way over to the check-in area of the one room building that was Honoré airport, Commissioner Patterson asked the airline clerk to track back and try to locate the missing officer. 

                ‘Well, according to the records, Inspector Poole boarded the plane in Paris, Commissioner and was bound for Antigua.  The flight was delayed due to bad weather in the North Atlantic.’

                ‘How long was the delay?’

                ‘Um, ninety minutes overdue.  It arrived at 14:07 local time, but I have no record of him checking in for any other flights off the island.’

 

Even if he was an hour and a half late, Poole would still have had time to catch one of the regular shuttle flights from Antigua to Guadeloupe.  Yet he hadn’t shown up for his booked onward flight, and hadn’t tried to make contact with anyone since apparently touching down.  Commissioner Patterson tried again to ring the Inspectors mobile phone but it was switched off.  He would call the phone company to get them to track it but if the phone was off it would be impossible to locate.  Inspector Poole appeared to have just disappeared.

    Commissioner Patterson checked his watch.  It was 6.45pm.  The last flight from Guadeloupe had arrived and disgorged its passengers. The Saint-Marie airport closed to incoming flights at 6.30pm to allow local residents some peace and quiet in the evenings, so it was clear the Inspector wouldn’t be returning by air tonight.  But where was he?  This was totally out of character for the quiet, pedantic, rule abiding Englishman.

    Debating what to do or who to call next, the Commissioner walked outside and was making his way to his chauffeur driven car, when his phone bleeped.  It was his wife, Daphne. Having seen her onto the 4 o’clock flight to Dominica where she was to visit her sister, he was surprised by her ringing now.  She would have barely left the airport yet, so anxiously, he accepted the call.

        ‘Daphne?  Are you okay?  What’s wrong?’

        ‘Ah Selwyn.  Don’t panic. I’m fine.  But I have news for you.  You need to call Bobby on Antigua.  Apparently he has just had an encounter with your Inspector Poole.’

        ‘ _WHAT_? When?  How do you know?’

So Poole _was_ in the Caribbean after all.

 

*******

 

X-rays and scans revealed Richard had a very mild concussion but thankfully no fractures to his skull. It was also discovered that he had broken his ankle in three places.  Due to the twisting nature of his accident the bones had dis-united and despite numerous increasingly painful attempts to re-set them, Dr Gilbert had been unable to do so. 

    After consultation with an orthopaedic specialist it was decided that it might be better to manipulate the bones under general anaesthetic, using plates to secure them in place.  With the pain relief given on his arrival now completely worn off, and being in considerable pain from rounds one to five of Dr Gilberts ‘Pull my leg’ caper (which had caused tears to form in the corners of his eyes), Richard readily accepted the proposed treatment plan.  The headache he had anticipated was developing rapidly and he just wanted to find a dark corner, crawl under a blanket and hide from the world.

    As no theatre was immediately available to undertake the procedure on his leg, Richard was given some strong pain relief medication that quickly made him feel quite mellow.   Edwin wheeled him through the hospital corridors and up to the ward as Richard giggled happily, watching entranced as fairies skipped about at the foot of the bed.  After an hour or so his diminutive companions fluttered away and he was overcome by a crushing fatigue.  Having managed to sleep for a little while, a nurse came and woke him again to check his pupil reactions and mental capacity. Now, although tired and not in any significant pain, try as he might he could not get back to sleep.

    Staring up at the ceiling in the softly lit ward, he tried to focus on the jagged edges of a water stain instead of the guttural snoring of the man in the next bed.  The sound reminded Richard of Dwayne’s thunderous nasal noises.  He had thought his colleague’s snores were loud, but this guy had him beat hands down, or should that be nose down? 

    Richard let his mind drift back to the afternoon when he had returned to the station in Honoré one afternoon to find Dwayne asleep at his desk.  He had been in quite a grumpy mood after his meeting with Commissioner Patterson and was annoyed that his colleague was snoozing on duty.  In a fit of pique, Richard decided to teach Dwayne a lesson.  Creeping into the station as stealthily as he could, he placed his briefcase near silently on Fidel's desk then made his way over to the fridge freezer in the corner, extracting what he needed. With slow mouse like steps he’d then snuck up behind the sleeping officer, and dropped a couple of ice cubes down the back of his shirt. Dwayne had bolted upright so fast the sheet of paper his face had been resting on was still stuck to his cheek!  Richard had barely managed to suppress his guffaws at the shocked and confused expression Dwayne had worn.  So desperately did he want to laugh that he had to disappear off to the cells to calm himself down enough to look Dwayne in the face again shortly after to reprimand him for sleeping on the job.  Dwayne was most apologetic and spent the rest of the day cowed and diligently working through the pile of filing he had been given as penance for his misdemeanour. 

    Camille, of course, had yelled at Richard when she found out, calling him childish and mean, but then she laughed, as did Dwayne when the team retired to La Kaz for drinks after work that evening.  A wave of guilt hit him at the thought of the team. _His_ team _,_ that were so far away and as yet unaware of his predicament.  The last few days in London, and especially the run in with John Manning had shown Richard what a good team he had around him on Saint-Marie.  He really should have gotten someone to call the Commissioner.

    Before his thoughts could turn mawkish, he tried to refocus on the stained ceiling but the incessant snores invaded his mind like a hammer-drill.  Trust him to get a bed on the Ear, Nose and Throat ward! The nurse came along and checked his pupil response and his temperature, again.  She agreed to send a message to Saint-Marie in the morning.  After throwing him a smile, she scribbled something on the chart at the end of his bed then moved on to the next patient. 

    Richard dropped his head back into the pillow gently, and began to worry.  He knew he was tired and probably hadn’t slept properly in days; since the night before the Commissioner had told him he had to attend the Marine reserve fundraiser.  That had been nearly three weeks ago.  He’d worried about attending the event, then there had been Malcolm Powell's murder to solve, then the trip to London.  When he’d finally gotten what he thought he wanted for the past 18 months, to be back ‘home’ in the country of his birth, he still hadn’t slept properly.  The noise of the traffic and people late into the night, the 24 hour roadworks, and the overbearing closeness of the crowds were just too much, leaving him craving a simpler, quieter space.  So he’d escaped to Frinton for the day.  But even then he couldn’t settle.  Was he destined to always be unhappy?

    Since landing on Saint-Marie he had desperately wanted to go ‘home’.  London was comforting and where he belonged, but somehow being there had felt different to when he’d left.  The terror threat was still high, but he’d lived with that most of his career.  It was crowded but hadn’t he liked the anonymous throng? A place you could live your life surrounded by people but apart from everyone.  Alone.

        ‘You don’t have to anymore.  You have me.’

His subconscious mind conjured up Camilles words to him from that wonderful night.  The night they spent together, trapped at the University weather lab during the hurricane that never quite was.  And like the sun as it rose in the morning, a gentle warmth spread through him from the inside out.  She said he didn’t have to be alone anymore.  And, he realised, he didn’t want to be.  He had friends!  People who, no matter how much he had tried to stop them, had worked their way into his life, and it felt odd when they weren’t there.  It wasn’t just familiarity.  Thinking about it now, Richard found himself glad that when he went to work each morning they were there, laughing, joking and talking about their lives outside of work.  Something, he admitted to himself that he didn’t have and never had. 

    From the day he started at Hendon Richard had focused on the goal of becoming the best policeman he could be.  He’d wanted to make his Dad proud, and worked hard to do so.  He graduated top of his class.  He made Detective Constable three years after passing out as a Police Officer, and Detective Sergeant after six.  But his Dad had only ever said ‘well done’ in that automatic emotionless way he had.  There were no pats on the back, no displays of paternal pride in his achievements.  Just a ‘well done lad’, that could have been directed at the dog as much as his son.  Richard worked so hard he found he’d dug himself into a rut of work, sleep, eat, work.  So fixed on the destination of success, he had forgotten to enjoy the journey.

    And what did he have to show for it?  Yes he was good at his job, but at the end of his career what would he have to represent his years of toil and effort?  A shiny silver carriage clock on the mantelpiece just like his Dad?  Admittedly he’d put away scores of murderers and other criminals but there were others who could have done that.  What _would_ happen to him when he retired?  Would he end up like poor Mr Carter, alone in old age, murdered by an intruder he was too feeble to fight off?  Left to decay by uninterested neighbours, no one aware of his fate until the postman couldn’t get any more letters through the letter box and called in the police?  It had been Richards first case as a Detective and the murder scene had left a deep impression upon him.

 The clatter of a trolley jolted Richard from his maudlin thoughts.  He watched as a porter, aided by two nurses in scrubs folded back the sheet covering him and dropped the safety rail on one side of the bed, bringing the trolley round ready to take him to theatre.

Within ten minutes the Anaesthetist was telling him to picture a happy scene as he counted backwards from 20.  The last thing Richard remembered was picking up his dream from yesterday evening……   

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you are wondering, Frinton is just along the coast to Clacton and has a reputation as being a bit more highbrow / posher. It was many years before they would allow either a pub or fish and chip shop to open in the town.


End file.
